Mon Maestro, Mon Ange
by PryingPandora95
Summary: This is the classic tale of love lost from Phantom of the Opera. However, is it truly how it ended? What if it hadn't ended with Christine fleeing with Raoul? This is a E/C fanfic. Please enjoy! PryingPandora
1. As it begins

The games are just beginning…but where will they lead to once they end?

This is a E/C pairing, I will not write a story which does not end in those two characters. I do not write unhappy endings, sorry for all those who revel in the sadness. This story may progress into intense sexual situations, hence the rating. *UNDERAGE DO NOT READ*

This story, though retold, will give a twist on the ALW version, to make it my own. Pleaase forgive, this is my first Phanfic, so it may be a tad dry until you give me some reviews! J This is to be a story filled with hope, fluff, romance, suspense, heavy and light hearted pieces, angst and much more.

I do not own any of the original characters, their temperments are just played with J hehe…

Please review, *sad puppy dog eyes* I need to get better, and the only way I can do that, is for you dear readers, to critique me! Thank you. Now enough begging, enjoy the show!

PryingPandora

**As it begins **

**I.**

He could not stand it any longer. La Carlotta had butchered too many an aria. Enveloping himself in shadows the Phantom skirted along the rafters as he decided to drop in once again. To remind those _fools _know who they were trifling with.

At the height of La Carlotta's croaking notes he unwound the rope from it's hitching post, sending the scenery for Hannibal crashing down upon their insolent heads. He could hear the screams of the patrons below, and a sense of satisfaction filled him.

The Phantom could not resist watching the chaos that he created, proudly he glanced over the railing, just a fleeting glance at the prone and screaming Carlotta gave him immense pleasure. Her hideous voice, making a mockery of any aria, she deserved what came to her. He smirked, and turned quickly away, using the shadows as his guise.

As he sped away, he let loose the envelope, one containing his wishes for the new "owners" of _HIS _opera house.

Poor fools, they will learn whom they listen to.

He could hear them squabbling, his newest entrance causing quite the stir. Smirking he continued to listen to their petty woes, as Carlotta exits, her high pitched keening slowly dimming.

A sudden voice piqued his interest, listening more closely he could hear their irritating childlike voices.

"What shall we do? She shall be back wont she? Perhaps there…there was an understudy?" Andre pleaded frantically to the Maestro, waving his black walking stick around as if he was conducting his own aria.

The Maestro was outraged; the Phantom could hear the disbelief in his voice as he quickly told the new managers that there was no understudy for La Carlotta.

The Phantom was bemused, how interesting that the new managers' first test was so difficult, intrigued he continued to listen from his hidden vantage point.

"Then we must cancel tonight's gala, because we seemingly have no star!" Firmin's moustache twitched in anger as he ripped up the letter, scattering the pieces around the aria stage.

His ears pricked up as he heard his faithful attendant speak, Madame Giry's voice carrying a rather hopeful message, one that even his genius did not think of.

"Why Christine Daae could do it monsieur. "

_Foolish mistake! His cold soul insisted, Is she ready? _

As soon as a single note left her beautiful lips, he knew his hard work will have paid off. Her voice pure and delicate, captivating anyone within earshot. He could see the stage hands leaving over the rafters to view the source of such an angelic voice. The cast wandering close, their mouths agape in awe and he knew.

Smirking he slipped from his vantage point, eager to see how his young protégée will handle her newfound fame.


	2. New found fame

**Newfound Fame**

**II. **

High above him, in the world of light he could hear the entering patrons. Their voices carrying far into his dank lair. Restless, he paced, his cape flowing about him like liquid ink splashed upon a page.

_When will the thrice damned show start! _

Absent mindedly he fixed his wig, making sure it stayed in place, stalking up and down the corridors angrily. The echoes of his footsteps reverberating around him, the only other sound created by his dark sanctuary was the slap of the water upon the small gondola's surface.

Suddenly the persistent chatter above him quieted, and the first sweet strains of the aria filled the vast silence.

Then came her voice, that silvery sweet sound, like a tiny well-crafted bell. No one dared make a sound, the Phantom could feel the utter awe of the patrons above and his heart swelled in pride.

Between each high note he could hear applause, the crowd roaring for his protégée, her voice magnificent.

With a smirk he turned from his lair, swiftly moving along the dank and dark corridors to the chapel room where he knew Christine, like a good girl, would be awaiting him.

_How beautiful is she, how so much like an angel in her innocence, her lips like- NO I am damned to think of that! I am nothing but a hideous monster unfit for anyone, especially angelic Christine's love. _His tortured soul screamed at him, merciless.

Her beautiful voice…that voice is what makes his tarnished heart continue to beat, her very life is what keeps him tethered to this god forsaken world.

_Could he not just have that one pleasure? _

He could see her form, her magnificent lithe form prone in front of the candelabra bearing her father's name. He continued watching her, she began to light the candles gently, the burning light playing across her curls, filling the atrium with soft light. He could not stand to not reward her for her magnificent performance tonight. His voice rang out to her, using his magician's powers he sang out to her, and her alone…

_"Brava, Brava. Bravicima" _

Suddenly another voice enters the chambers, he controls his ire at the intrusion. He knows that voice, the lilting voice of Meg, the little golden haired daughter of Madame Giry, and Christine's close friend.

"Christine…Christine?" Meg inquires in her childlike tone, its sound reverberating off the walls. He silently echoed in Christine's ear "Christine" just to let her know he was still there. Instead of fleeting back into his sanctuary, his interest kept him pinned into place, well hidden by the shadows. He chose to listen in to the young girls' conversations; he would never understand why girls chatted so much.

Shifting his weight from one leg to the other he listened to Christine tell young Meg about her father, and of her "Angel of Music".

He scoffed, _if only she knew I was but a man, a man of distorted flesh and blood. One so close, so..dangerous, that if she ever truly knew what I had done she would flee in terror. _Rubbing his hand through his hair, careful not to upset the wig. With a flick of this cape he turns down the corridor, having heard enough of their chatter. As he swept down the corridor he was flanked by HER voice, that angelic birdsong calling to him.

At that moment, he decided, decided…

_She shall be mine, mine alone. His mind cooed_.

Sauntering down the passageway, instead of retreating into the heart of his lair he turned down the opening to the Mirror. One of the many things that he himself had installed in this Opera House.

He could see her graceful form move about her room, peering in at her from behind his vantage point. Unafraid that anyone could see him, since he knew that the only way she could would have to be when he was backlit.

Madame Giry entered the room while he was lost in thought, she had spoken with his dear Christine, and had given her his rose as asked. Her delicate fingers tracing the black satin he had so lovingly wound around it.

_She is striking, no doubt the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. _

_S_he continued to stand in front of the doorway, fingering the rose, but swiftly resigned to the chair at her vanity. She was so close, her beauty so vibrant before him. His heart ached to touch her.

_Fool!_ Cold logic vehemently insisted.

He prepared to leave, satisfied by her presence in her room. A small smile of appreciation crossing his face, but suddenly the door opened, opened to a _MAN_.

His voice, so grating and rough fanned the flames of his anger.

How _DARE_ another enter her private chambers, she was his and his alone! He fought for control of his rage, wishing nothing more than to jam back the lever and swing open the mirror to throttle this, this, _BOY._

His blood boiling as they reminisced on their childhood…how dare the pompous Vitacome have any interaction with his sweet Christine. Pacing back and forth, his hand gripping the Punjab lasso he always kept well hidden beneath his overcoat. Wishing he could feel the young intruders neck beneath its strong grasp.

Listening to her sing, her birdsong, to this mongrel was revolting. He barely contained himself as the dog embraced her. He was quaking in rage as the insolent boy left, telling her that she will go with him tonight, that he would be waiting. Slipping out from behind the mirror to the front of her room, the master key within his grasp.

Not hearing Christine's reply to Raul's heinous request for her presence.

Turning the key into the lock, making sure they would not be interrupted. He decided, decided…

There was no turning back now, He had decided that he had waited far too long to show her his true form. His blood boiled at the thought of any suitor, especially one suitor in particular following her around like little puppies.

Returning to his place behind the mirror, he watched her as she exited the privacy screen, tying her wrap around her. Using his magic he blew out all of the candles in her room, enveloping it in darkness. Her face dew taunt, afraid.

Letting his voice lash out, accompanied by the organ he so dearly loves.

"Insolent boy! A slave of fashion, basking in your glory! Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!" The clang of the organ clearly defined his anger, his voice biting as she stood in the doorway.

Her sweet voice rang out, pure and innocent, its sound slowly balming the flames in his soul.

"Angel I hear you, speak I listen, stay by my side, guide me" Clutching at the front of her dressing gown she sang, her voice a bit shaky in her fear of his wrath. " Angel my soul was weak, forgive me. Enter at last Master."

He could no longer be mad at her, his heart aching for he had scared her. He projected his voice out to her, attempting to soothe her in the wake of his fury. " Flattering child you shant know me, see why in shadows I hide, look at your face in the mirror" Turning she faces him, using once again his power he lights the candles behind him, backlighting himself so he could be seen as he poured out his song to her, her face so delicate, so arresting. " I am there inside!"

Slowly she strode forward on stocking clad feet, her voice ringing out once more. " Angel of music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory. Angel of music hide no longer, come to me strange Angel"

She stood so close, his heart incredulous at her words, peering into her face, searching for even an inkling of fear, but finding none. Her mouth agape in awe, her features so gently sculpted drawn into a look of surprise.

Beckoning to her the Phantom held out his hand, curling his fingers in a come hither motion, drawing her in with his voice, "I am your Angel of music, come to the angel of music" He could hear that damned boy barging on her door, but no matter to him, he had delicate Christine in his thrall, holding out his hand he drew her closer to him, like a butterfly to a spider's web.

"Come to your angel of music, come to the angel of music, come to your angel..of music" He sang out, his heart skipping a beat as she grasped his leather clad hand. Even through the thick material he felt a jolt, a spark as their hands join, a connection he had never felt before…

The organs blared out just as he wished, she was caught, deep into the spider's web. The organ being their drawing force as he began to lead her into his sanctuary, into his most sacred place…

There was no turning back now, he had pushed it past the point of no return.


	3. Down into the darkness

**Down into the darkness**

**III. **

~ Just as a side note to my readers, when I talk about the organ playing while The Phantom is not there, it isn't remote controlled, he is a magician you see… *smiles evilly * Happy Reading!

Periodically he glanced behind him whilst her soft and feminine voice rang out, her touch intoxicating. Leading her by the hand down the brightly lit corridor, the candelabras blazing brightly, her face shifting from amazement to one of surprise as the candelabras moved by his command. Her voice, so soft, so pure, so much his.

"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came, that voice that calls to me, and speaks my name" He continues to lead her, directing her around the traps he has so strategically placed. He could not help but continue to turn, he must see her face, her beautiful angelic face. As she continued to sing, his heart soared.

" And do I dream again, for now I find, the Phantom of the Opera is there inside my mind"

_Does she fear, no surely not._ His troubled mind inquired as he gently led her, like leading a sleepy child, down the spiral staircase to his horse who was awaiting them

. Letting his voice ring out in the gloom, urging her to go on with his deep voice, luring her deeper into his thrall.

"Sing once again with me, our strange duet. My power over you grows stronger yet"

His voice oozes out, pouring into it his power of persuasion. He notices she glances behind, her curls slightly brushing his forearm, though he could not feel their softness, her scent rushed over him and he had to control his ardor at her mere presence down in his catacombs. Bringing her up next to the big black beast he had to take a steading breath before he grasped her gently around her tiny waist, his body almost jolting at such small contact with her.

_Ignorant fool control yourself!_

He hoists her onto the great beast and continues down the short way to the gondola, continuing his duet, his heart both strangely heavy and light…

"And though you turn from me, to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind" The organ continued to belt out his song, his power flexing and controlling the keys at his will. Bringing the mighty black horse to a halt, he steadied himself and almost lost his composure as she slipped from the back of the horse into his arms.

The feeling of her soft feminine curves against him almost drove him mad. Quickly but not gruffly he set her down and took a step back, toward the gondola, his mind swimming, trying to restrain his deepest desires.

Stepping into the gondola he held out his hand, beckoning her to come to him, taking his hand once again, feeling that intense spark, he led her into the boat. His mind ablaze, he began the trek through the underground passageways.

Her voice rang, continuing their strange duet. Sitting at the bow of the boat, her soft curves just partially hidden by her wrapper, so innocent so…appealing. Quickly he looked away, his body and soul yearning for her, her birdsong ringing in the gloom.

" Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear. I am the mask you wear"

"Its me they hear"

Singing as one, Master and protégée, his heart felt full for once. Her beautiful voice mingling with his own. He continued rowing, their voices filling the caverns, Christine making him proud.

"My spirit and my voice in one combined, The Phantom of the Opera is there inside (your) my mind" Her voice so intoxicating, so life changing the Phantom sang with his sweet Ange… her voice continuing to ring out, filling the dank place with her light.

"He's there, the Phantom of the Opera"

Taking one large stroke, he propelled them faster toward his inner sanctuary, the organ louder now, his voice stronger as he reached closer to his lair.

" In all your fantasies, you always knew that man and mystery…"

Her high pitched soprano filling the caverns, just singing the high octaves he taught her. His soul relishing her talent taking flight. Urging the gondola to the maw of the sanctuary, the grate lifting slowly, as he uses more of his magic, candelabras lifting from deep below the surface, then lighting themselves as they passed, goading her on, almost begging her to go on.

"Sing my angel, Sing for me! Sing my Angel! Sing for ME!" His voice booming out as she climbed higher on the scale, her voice pure, his hard work paying off. As she sang, she glanced about his lair, her high pitch echoing off the walls. The whole scene lit by the multitude of candelabras lit around. The whole place lit softly by a thousand flames, just as he had willed.

Stepping from the boat, he glanced down at her as her voice faded, the organ falling silent.

Grasping the edge of his cloak he pulled it off, the fabric swirling about him, like black smoke.

Pacing up the staircase leading to his beloved organ, twisting around, his voice soothing her, as she watches from the boat, her eyes trained on him, in awe.

" I have, brought you to the seat of sweet music's throne. To this kingdom where all must pay homage to music, music…You have come here, for one purpose and one alone. Since the moment I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me to serve me, to sing…for my music…my music.."

Staring down at her face, so artfully crafted, softly lit by the multitude of candles. Out of his mind, lost in the beauty of what he had done. Slowly he begins to move back toward the boat, prowling like a predatory cat towards her, his voice gentle, as not to frighten her.

"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination, silently the senses abandon their defenses. Helpless to resist the notes I write, for I compose the music of the night…" Holding out his hand he waits eagerly for his young Christine to grasp his hand, wanting to feel that rush, that tingling sensation once again.

Slowly she lithely rises, gripping his hand, allowing herself to be led gently, completely enthralled.

"Slowly, gently, night unfurls it's splendor…Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender", She had been glancing around, her bright eyes searching his lair, drinking in all he had created for her. Slowly he slips his hand to her jaw, turning her face to look at him. "Turn your face away from the garish light of day. Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light and listen to the music of the night."

Leading her past the miniatures of the stage, with her inside he felt a rush, one that he had never felt. Like a small excited child he turned from her and sprinted up the stairs to the organ, leaving her at the foot of the stairs. With his back to her he continues to sing, turning sharply to face her at the doorway beyond .

"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams…Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before, close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar" He watched her do as he had asked, closing her eyes gently and just listening to his words, but slowly opening them again as he strode toward her again, a strange urgency invading his soul.

He felt as if he NEEDED to be close, to be able to reach out and touch her, " …and you'll live as you've never lived before"

Slowly she took ahold of his hand once more, as he lead her up the stairs. His voice soft and musical, loving, a soft almost silent whisper, "Softly, deftly, music shall caress you, hear it, feel it, secretly possess you."

Their faces inches from one another, his heart beating wildly, logic thrown out the window. Slowly he circles her, drawing her a different way. "Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind. In this darkness that you know you cannot fight. The darkness of the music of the night."

Gesturing outward she followed the lines of his hands, his face lit by soft light and shadows, slowly he moves behind a row of candelabras, back behind his organ and around again.

His voice steadily gaining volume as he poured his heart out to her. "Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world. Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before, let your soul take you where you long to be!"

Softening his tone, he strode forward, close as he dared get to her, her sent swirling about his head, all thoughts he once had gone..all caution thrown to the wind.

"Only then can you belong to me", slowly cupping her face with both hands, her wide doe eyes staring back at him. Softly he brushes his hands down her neck, to her shoulders, her arms." Floating, falling, sweet intoxication", The close proximity more than he had ever been to a female, never mind the only one he ever wished to be close to.

Moving gentle and slow like molasses he turns her, wrapping his arm about her midsection, smoothing his hands down her waist, to her hips. Her head rolling back, her complete trust his. Softly taking her hand he guides it to his cheek, the one not cursed by his disgusting deformity… " Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation"

Turning her around slowly still grasping her hand, staring into her eyes, singing from the deepest part of his heart. Leading her as he sang, his heart leading instead of logic. "Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in, to the power of the music that I write, the power of the music of the night."

Not rushing her he led her around the organ, to the slight bend in the rock, where his most prized creation was awaiting his dear Christine.

Turning her face behind to glance at him, her beautiful lips upturned in a smile, he returned the glowing gesture, softly sweeping the curtain away from the doorway so she could see his gift.

Upon seeing the replica of her, clad in his ideal wedding gown, she fainted. He quickly gathered her into his arms before she could fall. Puzzled he gently scooped her into his arms, bearing her tiny frame with ease, Striding up the stairs he placed her securely within his bed, the silk enveloping her, a strange flutter battering his body.

It all seemed like so much, so soon that his dream would become reality, that Christine would finally be his and his alone. Stooping down he caressed her face, awed by her beauty even as she slept. "You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night."

Sliding upright he slowly exited the room, tugging the cord that dropped the lace curtain, watching her prone form, so gentle, so..angelic. Her innocence astounded him, and enticed his soul.

In an instant everything had changed, and all seemed right with the world…The Phantom will finally have his Angel.

_Was this wise?_ His battered mind prodded.

Turning he banished the thought, striding to his organ he thought quietly to himself…losing himself in his music. Feeling lighter than he ever had, knowing his darling Christine slept just mere feet from him. But something inside nagged, a feeling that only festered.

_Will she run, will she scream when she awoke when his power dissipated? Would she run in terror if she ever saw his face? _

Shaking his head as if to jar the thoughts loose he continued to play, the organ belting out soft tones under his agile fingers.

_One shall only know once it comes to pass…and come it shall._


	4. Layers stripped away

This chapter will be an experiment mes chéris…this version of the events that take place once Christine wakes up in Erik's lair is in Christine's perspective. I will be additionally posting the same chapter in Erik's point of view. Now my dear readers, I need you to give me a vote on which one will stay for the final chapter in my little story. I am sorry for the wait mes chéris…I hope this makes up for such a ghastly wait. Please read and review. *gets down on knees* Please please please review for moi? *big sad puppydog eyes* Please? *gets up brushing off knees* Now enough of petty begging, on with the show! Enjoy!

PryingPandora

**Layers stripped away**

**IV.**

As she awoke, her head swam with such a strange dream. Slowly she sat up and surveyed the scene before her. The silk beneath her caressing her skin, her body lovingly cradled in a large circular bed. The front of the bed the body of a Phoenix, and the backboard a mighty shell.

_Where was she?_

She could sense she was not alone in this strange place. Thinking hard she began to remember pieces of the night before. They came to her cloaked in mist, shapes barely able to be recognized.

Lithely she slid her stocking clad feet from the bed, the floor cold and hard. She could hear strains of music emanating from outside of these private chambers.

Running a hand through her curls, she searched for a way to draw up the lovely black lace curtain before her. Suddenly finding one she gave it a soft tug, and the curtain began to rise.

The scene before her was enchanting, however strange and alien it was. The room was lit by multiple candelabras, and clothed in shadow. Still emerging from her deep slumber she began to sing, trying to sort out the events that transpired last night and to let whomever was with her know that she was awake.

"I remember there was mist…swirling mist upon a vast glassy lake. There were candles all around and on the lake there was a boat."

Striding uneasily forward she ventured around the bend of rock. What lay before her was rows lined with candelabras burning brightly, and below a small gondola splashed by the lake. Feeling as if she was in a dream she continued her venture, letting her voice ring out softly, hauntingly.

" And in the boat there was a man.."

Glancing around the cavern a figure caught her eye, he was situated at a gigantic organ, clad in black. Hearing her voice the man turned, the right side of his face concealed behind a mask of smooth white porcelain.

_Who was this man..why did he wear such an intriguing mask to hide what was surely a handsome face?_

Climbing the staircase leading to the great instrument she continued to sing, imploring the dashing figure to tell her…tell her anything.

_"Who was that shape in the shadows? Who's is the face in the mask?"_

Slowly she approaches the man, almost drawn to him by an unseen force. Gently she touches his back, and he in tern closes his eyes and leans his head back onto her. Surprised at his display of trust she gives into her desire to feel his skin under her fingers, gliding her fingertips across his cheek not hidden by the mask.

His skin, so warm, so..soft. Such a difference from the cold chilly air around her, his skin almost seemed to be a warm flame against her fingertips. She was close enough to smell him, his scent swirling around her.

_He smelled of wine and roses…and perhaps a bit of parchment and wax?_

Her mind raced, and still singing she skirted her fingers along the edge of his mask, toying with the idea to take it off.

_He was so handsome, why would he hide the side of such a godly face? I must know!_

Gently cupping the side of his face with one hand, running it down over his cheek, she slowly slid her other hand over the back of his head, feeling the richness of his hair, to the top edge of his mask. Moving slowly she began to pull it, feeling it pop free.

In a split of a second, the figure only seconds ago happily basking in her touch, was falling away from her, His hand plastered to the porcelain covering his face. She stumbled backward and fell in an attempt to get away from the reeling figure.

Collapsing in a heap at the base of a table behind the organ she shivered, the figure visibly agitated, His voice careening out into this vast space.

" DAMN YOU! You little PRYING PANDORA!" He screamed at her, his hand still protectively clasped over his mask, his features twisted in rage. In a fit of rage he smashed his hand across his vision, toppling over a candelabra, sending it cascading down into the water below. Stalking over to a covered mirror he ripped the covering off, violently throwing it upon the ground.

" You little Demon! You shall not see!" Throwing his hand away from his face he whirled to face her. His features twisted by rage.

"Curse you! You little lying DELIAHLA! You little viper! Now you may never be free!"

As she coward before the table, watching as he smashed his way down the stairwell, knocking things into the water. His voice steadily becoming softer and more musical as he progressed.

"Damn you...Curse you..."

Shaking she pushed herself up on her elbows, as the figure had disappeared behind a bend in the crag. Softly his voice rang out from the darkness, the tone almost chiding, but most certainly haunting.

"Stranger than you dreamt it. Could you even dare to look? This loathsome gargoyle, who burns in hell, but secretly yearns for heaven. Secretly, secretly.."

Pacing away he traversed to the opposite side of the cavern, towards the mannequin dressed in the wedding gown he had made for her. Cowering in the corner, covered by shadows she listened to his rant. Her heart hurt with the realization on what the mask truly meant to him.

_That is his protection, his…security. His whole perception of himself is based upon how his mask covers what lies behind it._

"Fear can turn to love, you'll learn to see, to find the man behind the monster. This repulsive carcass, who seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty. ,Secretly, secretly...Oh Christine..."

Crawling toward her he croons and her heart melts and softens. He holds out his hand to her, a gesture of kindness after her betrayal. Taking it sheepishly she yearns to comfort him, but he turns hard, his face set as he brushes the mask with his free hand. Blocked from his face not hidden behind the cold porcelain, unable to read his true feelings.

"Come, we must return, those two fools who run my theatre will be missing you." Swiftly he began to drag me along into the boat, leaving this place was like leaving a castle hidden from the world. Roughly he takes his cape and tucks her inside it, plopping her down in the bow of the gondola and silently begins their trek back to the surface.

Glancing behind, his face as cold as stone, his handsome jaw set in a line. Her heart feeling as if it had been branded, she felt an almost uncontrollable sense to comfort him...to ease whatever had harmed him this much. Her mind raced, her heart beat frantically.

Swiftly they arrived at the mirror, the passageway lit from the same candelabras that hastened their journey downwards. His face was unreadable and her heart burned, she felt tears stinging her eyes. She fought them back as he placed his gloved hand on the leaver, his voice echoing around her.

"I will be gone for some time. Five days to be exact, I have some business that I have been sweeping to the side that now I see has been needing to be dealt with. Once I return we shall continue your lessons, however, they shall be in the mirror room from now on. Goodnight Christine. "

Taking her hand gently, his lips softly brushing across her knuckles. She almost lost it then, as he gently opened the mirror and ushered her out. Unconsciously she gripped her hand, rubbing the knuckles that had felt her Maestro's kiss. Turning, she watched the mirror door slide shut,she could see just a glimpse of him before his world was cut off from her.

His face, so in pain, doubtedly he had wanted her to see that brief flash of emotion, however she had and it tore her resolve to pieces. Falling to the floor, her dressing room sheathed in darkness, she wept. Her face cradled in her hands, she cursed herself for her foolishness.

_What have I done? _


	5. A strange feeling

_This chapter has been squeezed out of me by mon ami _ SaVrAiNoiR…she has been with me since the beginning, thank you! She is a very talented writer, make sure you check out her work! Sorry for waiting so long to update, so much has happened in my life…my muse deserted me for a while as well! But now it is back, and I am ready to continue my little story. Thank you all my dedicated readers! Also thank you Sincerely Ro Mance for giving me the idea to use the deleted scene for this chapter! I will still be writing the previous chapter in Erik's perspective, but I need a calling from my muse…because without that I will not give you quality. Now my dear readers, without you my writing would suffer. Enjoy!

PryingPandora

**Strange feelings**

**VI.**

Deep under the earth, deep under His opera house the Phantom paced, slowly coming to a halt and kneeling before the water's edge. Faint mist swirls up from the lake, a faint chill creeping up his spine.

In a crouch he placed his head in his hands, his mind swirling and his heart painful.

_Why would she try such a thing? Did she want to hurt me?_ NO…._she…she cares for me. I saw her tears after she thought I had left. Were those for herself? Were they for the fact that I had cursed at her? _No…_she was weeping for me…right? _

_It had been four of the five days since he had seen her last, since she had tried to unmask him, since he had last seen her, sobbing, in her dark dressing room. He had spent each of these damned nights and days wandering, pacing, thinking of what he shall do. _

_She will learn to love me…if she doesn't already_.

Quickly he banished the thoughts, rubbing his temples, his heart screaming for him to go up to the surface, to catch even just a glimpse of Christine's delicate form, to let her know he was there.

With a deep sigh, he began to sing, pouring his heart into his song, all the sorrow he had carried for his life distinctly audible.

"No one would listen…No one but her….heard as the outcast hears."

He skims his fingers along the surface of the water, the only sound in the cavernous place the sound of the water dripping off his fingers. Still in a crouch, he continues to sing, his voice almost dripping with sorrow.

"Shamed into solitude. Shunned by the multitude…..I learned to listen. In my dark, my heart heard music."

Slowly he stands, his lithe form rising to his full height, turning away from the swirling mist and darkness he strode toward his beloved organ, "I longed to teach the world, rise up and reach the world. No one would listen…..I alone could hear the music", softly swiping his fingers across the keys, he carried himself toward the wall covered in the sketches he had created of his beauty Christine. "Then at last, a voice in the gloom, seemed to cry "I hear you!"

Gently he touched one of the pictures, caressing the side of her face, his heart filling with a strange sensation…one he had never felt before. " I hear your fears, your torment and your tears."

Turning slowly away from the wall he strode to a small table strewn with pages covered in scrawl, mostly his ideas for a new aria. Placed lovingly on top of the pages was a red rose, opon which he had lovingly tied his calling card, a black satin ribbon. Picking it up, he fingers the petals lightly, his voice almost quiet in the gloom.

"She saw my loneliness….shared in my emptiness. No one would listen, no one but her"

His heart heaving he turns from the table, his face washed with the light of the candles, he slowly drops himself into his velvet lined chair, still thinking, still singing his heart out. Turning the rose over in his hands, it almost a personification of Christine's love and her beauty. His voice a soft murmur, "Heard as the outcast hears."

Slowly he brings the rose up to his lips, its velvet petals caressing his scarred flesh, his heart wishing to feel the caress of Christine's lips, imagining that Christine's caress would be much like the rose's. Sighing heavily he lays the rose down upon a side table, his voice barely a whisper, his heart swelling and tears stinging the back of his throat.

"No one would listen…no one but her. Heard as the outcast hears..."

Placing his hands over his face, the tears breaking through his resolve. Sobbing softly, alone in his cavernous home, the Phantom cries, his heart aching to see his muse, his love, his life…his Christine.

Through the murk and darkness of his tomb he could hear the managers squawking, a terrible form of singing he supposed. Then he heard La Carlotta's dying croak. They spoke of blasphemy...of La Carlotta being the lead in his newest aria….against his word. Drying his tears quickly, the rage inside him growing.

_HOW DARE THEY SPEAK OF SUCH A THING? DID I NOT INSTRUCT THEM THAT CHRISTINE WAS TO BE COUNTESS? HOW DARE THEY DISOBEY ME? _

Snatching up his cloak he swirled it about him, clothing himself in darkness. Storming into the gondola, he shoves away from the rock, a sudden gust of wind sweeping into the cavern, blowing out many of the candles, bathing the Phantom in semi darkness. His face etched into a glower, a scary play of light skirting across his normally handsome features, looking every inch the dead and haunted Phantom he portrays.

_They will pay…pay dearly. _


	6. The game has changed

Oh dear readers, this has been such a wonderful journey for me….my writing growing stronger each day. Thank you all for your support, but I still need your reviews! Thank you all. This chapter is quite a stretch for me….please enjoy!

PryingPandora

**The game has changed**

**VII**

_Listen to them plead with that poor excuse for a singer Carlotta, how DARE they disobey me, and give the lead to her. Her voice was not made to be heard, it was made to be silenced! _

His blood boiled and he could barely contain his anger at the ignorant fools that ran HIS Opera house. High above in the rafters he paced, careful not to make a sound and alert any of the crew to his where abouts. Flicking his cape behind his shoulder he fumed, he could almost see red. Suddenly his heart lurched, he could see his beautiful, angelic Christine, and he recoiled. His rage almost prompting him to drop in on those buffoons heads and strangle them all.

His hand had a death grip on the Punjab lasso, aching to be used against those who dared to put his delicate Christine in the shameful clothes of a boy.

_HOW DARE THEY! _

Shaking with rage he watched as Carlotta took center stage, his graceful Christine far behind, her head down in shame. He could almost feel her humiliation and pain. Clenching his hands into fists he fought the urge to drop from the rafters and show them what it really meant to disobey the Opera Ghost.

Quaking he watched as they set up, the stage hands running around like rats in a maze. As his rage hit its peak he decided….decided….

With a smirk on his face the Phantom skirted about the rafters. Hidden inside his waistcoat pocket was an identical vial to the one La Carlotta uses for her breath spray. He laughed under his breath as he dropped from above onto the stage, unafraid of being caught, as all of the rats were on stage, awaiting the beginning of the show. As he slithered along the shadows he could hear the beginning strains of the aria beginning, and he smiled, an evil look, as he switched the two vials. Oozing into the shadows once more he went to seat himself in box five, but found that wretched Vitacome lounging in it.

Oh how that irked him, his body shaking in rage. _How dare they disobey him, not just once, but twice!_ _They shall pay, and not just on La Carlotta_'s _head._

Peering from between the backdrops, he could see his angelic Christine, her face aflame, her smile plastered upon her face. He could feel her humiliation coming off in waves, his ire returning. His jaw set into a hard line, his heart thundering.

_La Carlotta shall croak like the toad she is. They will see their folly, and my Christine will not be upstaged again. And they shall pay for their mistakes. _

Slipping from his place in the rafters, he escaped to the banisters behind the chandelier. High enough for no one to know where he was, let alone pin point his voice, with audible ire in his voice, he boomed as La Carlotta began to climb the scale.

"Did I not instruct, that box five be kept empty? "

A sea of faces turned from the stage, gasps ringing out from the surprised crowd and the stage staff alike. Confusion erupting, the patrons searching to find him. His face twisted in a smirk, fools.

He could hear La Carlotta, her voice reaching his ears, "Your part is silent, little toad!", his voice low, as to speak to himself.

" It is you who is a toad, Madame."

He could see that ugly La Carlotta fleeing off into the stage left, taking sprays of her throat spray. He laughs to himself, _stupid little….._

Forcing himself to turn away, he exited the banisters through the door to the pulley systems that controlled the chandelier. Closing the door behind him, he sauntered out of the room, his face turned up into a knowing smirk.

He could hear La Carlotta croaking, her throat constricting and causing her to squeal and choke. He could hear the strains of laughter from where he was, and he felt a deep sense of satisfaction.

Suddenly a sound caught his attention, it was that sleaze Baquet, he was mere feet from him, on a small landing above the stage.

_ Had he seen me?_

He had to have followed me through the banister door, in search of the elusive Opera Ghost. He had seen how he trailed his gaze over his sweet Christine, could see the drunken lust in his eyes. He was too close for comfort, and needed to be…. Taken care of.

He could hear the music of the ballet below, the dancers flitting across the stage, but high above, the drunk Joseph Baquet was about to have a scare. He smiled, a cruel look, slipping into the shadows behind the poor fool, he waited, watched him sweat, wonder where in the world the Opera Ghost was. He could hear his ragged breathing, the Phantom's heart crying out for the sloth's blood.

Stepping from the shadows he towered over Baquet, as the fat man turned his eyes seemingly bugged out of his head. His mouth wide open he turned and ran from him. The Phantom laughed, relishing the hunt.

_Run little fool, no matter where you go, I will always be two steps ahead. _

Through the labyrinth of the rafters he chased Baquet, finally meeting up with him upon the center gang way. With a malicious glee he shook the walkway, causing his prey to fall. Leaping like a glorious jungle cat he pounced on Baquet. He fought against the Phantom, taking the lasso from beside his hip the Phantom tied it about the drunkards feet. A swift punch to the face knocked the man out. His own rationality gone, the Phantom reveled in his released rage. With a insane smile he shoved Baquet off the gangway, sending him hurtling toward the stage below.

He could hear the screams of terror, the patrons fleeing from their seats. Their fear only strengthened his glee, he paused only a second longer before dropping Baquet's weight and letting him plummet to the stage. His body bouncing as it struck the stage, the dancers screaming and running for their lives.

_Ignorant fools, let them think he is dead. He shall live, however as a scarred and broken man. Maybe this will teach them not to mess with the orders of the Opera Ghost. _

Scowling he turned, swirling his cloak about him and disappearing into the shadows, content with the screams of terror and the fleeing patrons.

Watching the stage hands flee from his hidden vantage points he spy's Christine running…running..with whom?

Silently he follows her, noting that her face is pale, her beautiful features stretched tight with worry.

_Had he terrified her? Will she run now? _

His blood begins to boil once again, she was with that bastard, the Vitacome. Clutching the hem of his cape he followed them, emotions swirling about in his heart. Upon the roof he hid behind a gargoyle, his heart twisting painfully.

_What is she doing up here, with HIM? _

The Vitacome's voice rang out in the cold of the night,

"There is no phantom of the opera!"

He could see Christine's angelic face, her voice pouring out into the same darkness, his heart involuntarily squeezing,

" Raul! I have been there…..to his world of unending night. To where the daylight dissolves into darkness, darkness" He could see she was clutching a rose, the rose he had loving left her in her dressing room. A token of his apology for her humiliation. His heart felt as if she had torn it out. A strange alien feeling for him, he really does love her, his…Christine.

She continues, ripping at his heart.

"I have seen him, can I ever forget that sight? "

_Was she appalled at him? Did she not love him? Damned Fool! How could he have let himself think that such a beauty love a beast like him? _

His world crashing down around him, his heart shredded, he called out to her, his voice only her's to hear. The sound pitiful, his voice one of a broken man.

" Christine…Christine"

Suddenly her face was stricken, her features twisted painfully, she knew he was there, that he had heard.

Fighting to contain the sea of emotion roaring inside him he continued to stay, watching her clutch the rose tighter, and turning from the gargoyle which he hid behind to face Raul.

He almost lashed out, striding over the softly falling snow to strangle that damnable boy when he saw him grasp her face between his palms. Clutching his eyes closed, his blood pounding in his head he fled. A single tear cascading down his face.

_How could she betray me? Oh Christine…how could you toss my love away? What have you done?_


	7. The budding of a rose

Hello my readers! I am so sorry for not updating, I have been rather busy, classes and all. I hope that this wonderful scene will make up for my absence! Please continue to read and review. I love all of your feedback! Thank you all! I have mixed both Christine's and Erik's perspective into this Chapter. I hope this goes well! Please enjoy the festivities!

PryingPandora

**VIII**

_-Christine's_

She could feel His presence, he was near and her heart leapt. The cold air around her chilling her, reminding her of His warm bed deep under the Opera House. After the events that transpired tonight she had fled up to the roof, her sanctuary, and Raul had followed. Clutching the rose her Maestro had so lovingly placed in her dressing room to her chest she almost uncontiously began to talk to Raul about her Maestro. She cautiously strode toward a gargoyle, she could feel His presence behind it.

_Why is the air so heavy? The air is tainted with pain…was He hurt?,_ her confused heart murmured.

Suddenly Raul spun her around, a shocked look upon her face. The cold causing a flush to creep across her face. She did not know how, but she KNEW He was hurt….distracted for a second, Raul impatiently cupped her face in his palms.

She felt his presence disappear, her suspicion confirmed. Her heart bled, _it is not what he thinks_!

Raul leaned in, his lips almost inches from hers when she snapped back to reality. Her arms shot out, shoving against his chest roughly, jarring him away from her. Her big brown eyes wide and glossy, her breath little white plumes in the cold night air. His face wore a mask of shock, his posture rejected. Smoothing her hands down her arms she gaped at him, her voice unsteady.

" What are you doing Raul? How..what?"

Skirting farther away from him she watched him scuff the soft snow with the toe of his shoe. His expression slowly transforming from one of shock to embarrassment.

"I..I just thought you would still feel for me as you once did, like when we were children Little Lottie. I…I could not help myself, please forgive me for my brash behavior."

Turning from him, her face flaming she fingered the petals of the rose, her body chilled and dread seeping into her heart. Her voice soft, like a small child's,

" It..is quite alright Raul, but I do not feel for you like that anymore. You are a great friend, a brother if you will, and nothing more. I am sorry if I mislead you. Please do not try further advances upon me."

She could feel his gaze boring into her back, she felt naked without her Maestro there, without his gaze upon her. A light touch upon her shoulder brought her back to the present, a friendly gesture and she turned. Raul's eyes said it all and she braved a small smile. Nodding his head he turned and opened the door to the spiral staircase.

Rushing as fast as her feet could take her she hurried to her dressing room. Her heart beating frantically, painfully. Her long chestnut hair flowing behind her, her cloak wrapping about her legs as she streaked past a few stage hands who stared at her as she flew past.

_Can what he had seen, what I have done, be undone? Will he see the truth? _

Erik's:

Up in the rafters he paced. His heart felt as if it was frozen, his tears sparking anger.

_I should have known, a beast such as I could never dream of wooing such a beauty. But she SHALL be mine! _

His heart hammering in his chest, a pitiful sound at best. Below the staff hurried around, making preparation for the Ball Masque tomorrow. His heart squeezed painfully, He had wished to take Christine, but that is over. He shall show up anyway. His anger fanned by the bold action of the Vicomte, his insolence overpowering.

_He shall give them a NEW Opera, not that those rat managers deserve it after their disregard for his wishes. _

A cruel sneer creased his face, his broken heart encouraging his twisted soul into violence. Dragging his leather clad hand down the uncovered side of his face he smirked. A grand plan hatching in his mind, _oh how delectable this will be. _

With a twist of his cape the Phantom disappeared down a corridor, toward delicate Christine's dressing room.

Christine's:

Slamming the dressing door behind her she sank to her knees, her back sliding down the ornate door. Clasping her face in her hands she began to sob, her heart wracked with sorrow as the implications of tonight sank in.

_He believes I have betrayed him, spurned his affections, that I actually wanted Raul. Raul over his glorious form? NEVER. _

Running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to calm herself, she sighed heavily. Slowly rising she glided to the changing screen and stripped herself of her pageboy clothing from that damned Opera II Muto. Standing behind the screen in nothing but her underclothes she felt his presence once again. Her heart skipped a beat, then felt as if it shrank in her chest. Smoothing down her hair with her hand, She vowed that he should not see her flustered, but that she will speak to him. She will not show that his presence scared her, and she shall have the upper hand. Grabbing a soft cloth from the washbowl she cleansed her face of her tears, and gently cleaned the grime of the day away. Slipping into her dressing gown she took a deep breath, but with a smile she decided to disgard the garment once again. Clad in only her corset, panties and garter she strode out from behind the screen and to her vanity.

_Can he sense my tension? Pray God he does not. _

Picking up her brush and slowly combing out her curls, her face awash in soft candlelight, the scent of the roses from the previous Opera surrounding her. Her body conveyed confidence, but inside she was falling apart. She hatched a plan, and she smiled to herself,

_Oh he shall be shocked. _

Erik's:

When he entered into the passageway behind sweet Christine's mirror he found himself staring at an empty room, however he knew she was in this room, he always knew where she was.

_She must be behind the screen, no doubt changing from those humiliating clothes that the bumbling Managers placed her in. _

His heart sputtered, and an ache in both his heart and his loins grew at the thought of Christine changing just feet away from where he stood, watching. Inside he chastised himself for such dispicible thoughts.

_How can I still love her, after what she has done to me? How can my twisted heart still yearn for her heaven? _

Taking a deep unsteady breath he turned around. Gone was his cloak, instead he was garbed in a suitcoat, underneath his Lasso attached at his hip. Turning from the mirror he brought his hand to his face, stroking his brow, trying to compose himself. He could feel his hands shake and he abused himself over his weakness.

_She shall always be your weakness, she is the one and only your twisted heart will ever desire,_ his doubt plagued mind whispered

Turning back around to view the room again he was met with a stimulating sight. Christine, gentle sweet innocent Christine, clad in nothing but her underclothes was seated so gracefully at her vanity, brushing out her soft chestnut curls. He felt fire spark in his groin, and shifted uncomfortably. He tried to distract himself from her bewitching beauty, to become angry at her once again, to no avail. All he could see was creamy white flesh encased in the minimal requirements. The soft candlelight bathed her skin in warm light, creating an intimate feeling about the room.

He felt his libido itching to be free, that beast straining against the cage to be set loose. Almost instantly he felt guilt.

_I should not be here, viewing her like this while she has no idea. This is what perverts do, and I am not one of those vagrants_.

Slowly he tore his eyes away from her succulent flesh and, rather uncomfortably, turned to leave when he heard her speak. Stopping mid turn, he scarcely could believe what he had heard. His sweet angel had spoken, her musical voice like that of a siren.

"Maestro, I know you are there, please, enter at last Master."


	8. New Experiences

Hehehe! Naughty Naughty Christine! And oh, poor tormented Erik! :D I hope you enjoyed my last chapter, and my dear readers, this is where I need to begin to state my rated M rating. Please be advised from now on sexual situations shall be cropping up! Nothing too drastic…or will it? This chapter shall be mostly written in Erik's perspective, but of course, I must have Christine's as well. Hehe! Please rate and review dear readers, more you tell me what you like or dislike, I will write faster and more in a way you enjoy! Thank you! Happy reading!

PryingPandora

IX.

**New Experiences**

Erik:

His heart hammered in his chest, the very thought of her knowing of his presence a breeze fanning the flames of his lust higher. Watching her turn from the mirror of her vanity to stare at the sheet of glass behind which he stood, and slowly rising to her stocking clad feet to glide toward the mirror was almost enough to rip his resolve. Her breasts peaking out above the lacey top of her bodice, the round globes highlighted by the sensual lighting. Her creamy thighs clad in lace stockings, her tempting hips rolling as she approached the mirror. His resolve amost crumbing at the sight of her.

_Oh Christine you don't know how you torment me. _

His hand, almost as if on its own accord reached over and flicked the leaver, sliding the mirror open, baring his form to Christine.

Christine:

Her outward confidence a shell to hide the quaking child inside. As she padded over to the mirror after speaking aloud, trying to be as cool headed as she possibly could.

As she watched the mirror door slide open she could not contain her slight gasp of breath at the sight of her Ange's form. Looking into his cool green eyes she felt her face flush, a child like response from having seen his wanton look across her skin. 

_You should have known what your semi-nudity would have done to him! Ignorant, no going back now, just get him to speak to me,_ her mind chided.

Falling to her knees she clutched at his pant leg, her face cast up to him in pleading. She could sense his shock at her unusual action. Burying her face into his pant leg like a child she pleaded for him to listen to her. She could feel the tension in his body radiating off him in waves. Tears cascaded down her face, dripping gently off her chin.

Suddenly he stooped low, grasping her under her arms gently, pulling her to her feet. He continued to tower over her, his form masculine and exciting, They stood almost chest to chest, her legs shaking at the way he was looking at her.

She felt as if her heart was to burst, his green eyes gone stormy, roving over every inch of her skin, making her knees quake.

_Had he never seen a woman like this before, no..surely he had…right? _

Reaching a gloved hand, he gently brushed a tear from her cheek, the contact causing a spark to sizzle across her skin. His touch gentle, yet commanding as he wound his fingers through her hair, pulling her to his broad chest gently. Automatically she snaked her arms about his waist, feeling and hearing his heartbeat thunder against his ribs. They stood like that for a while, his hands rubbing up and down her back gently, his hand still caught in her hair. Tenitively she spoke, her voice almost like a soft lark song.

"Forgive me Master, my soul was weak, and I spoke to whom you despise so much. The events of tonight were difficult to comprehend. I was frightened, and should have sought you out instead of another. Please forgive me."

Slowly the hand caressing her back slowed, she could feel him settle his face in her hair, cheek resting upon the crown of her head as if in thought. She could feel his warm breath caressing her scalp, her heart skipped a beat. Though the wait for his response was only a few seconds, it seemed like an eternity. At last his voice crooned softly to her, his voice husky,

"Oh Christine, if only it was that easy. What I had seen, will never be erased, how could you let that vile.."

Slowly he pushed her from him, gently taking her arms from around him and stepping around her. His hand covering the good side of his face. She stood there shocked, her arms limp by her sides, confusion written all over her face. She could see his torture, his hurt.

Turning he slid his coat from his shoulders, twirling it once and draping it across her shoulders, then turning from her, agony written on his features.

The coat engulfed her, but it warmed her chilled skin, warming her with his latent body heat. Turning her head she inhaled, taking in the scent of him. She watched him cross the room to sit at her vanity table, his long legs stretched before him, his head cradled in his hands. His sorrow and hurt cut her to the bone, her heart feeling as if it hit the floor. And then she realized what he had thought and she timidly padded over to him, grateful for the cover his coat provided.

Shaking she slid to her knees in front of him, her hands trembling. Gently she slid her hands over his, still causing him to twitch slightly. Pulling softly she replaced his hands with hers, she marveled at the texture of his exposed skin, warm and supple compared to the cold unfeeling porcelain just opposite. Slowly she tilted his face so she could gaze upon his face, his eyes fluttering open, the emerald pools clouded with pain and doubt.

The look in his eyes stabbed her straight to her heart, almost causing her to cry out in anguish, wishing, hoping, praying that she could balm his pain. To make it right again.

Letting out a shuttering breath she steadied herself for a second before speaking, her voice nasally from crying.

"Oh Mon Ange….you do not think? Please do not look like that Ange, I-"

Softly his hand cupped her chin, his thumb sliding over her bottom lip, effectively cutting her off. Staring at her lips he spoke gently, his voice somehow like a broken man's.

"Christine, I know not of love. I am a man bred of hate and violence. But I know two lovers when I see them. You…and the Vitacome, have that same look. I saw with my own wretched eyes the look he gave you, his filthy hands touching your sweet face. I fled, like a coward. I could not see that which I could not, and can not bear."

Softly he removed his hand from her chin, and brushed her hands from his face. She could see the pain in each breath, the labor that it caused him. Her heart screamed at his accusation, yet in the deepest part of it, it fluttered, knowing her Maestro loved HER enough to be pained so. His accusation caused her to lash out, tears flooding her eyes, her voice growing thick,

"Maestro! Oh no! That is not what happened at all! I beseech you to listen Ange…I promise that what you believe did not happen."

Shaking his head silently he began to stand, she threw herself at him, tears wildly streaming. Her voice shrill like a scared child,

"Please Sir! Do not leave, please….listen." Her tear stained face upturned to him, gritting his teeth he sat back down, upright and away from her still. Softly, "Thank you Maestro".

Her body quaking underneath his soft coat, she told him what had really happened. Her voice raw with emotion as she fought to make him understand. Slowly she saw his heart begin to soften once more, his face less sharp. His eyes lost that stormy look to them and he gently caressed the side of her face with the back of his hand, the soft leather gliding across. Closing her eyes she just gave into her senses, his touch almost like an intoxicating brew in conjunction with the scent of him and the warmth of his jacket.

His voice soothed her raw emotions, his voice reassuring and once again her Maestro,

"Oh flattering child, I see I was wrong. I am sorry for accusing that which I could never have known. Thank you dear Christine."

Opening her eyes she gazed into his, the green pools shifting colors, like multifaceted emeralds. The world seemed to have stopped, and they were the only two who knew it. Just for a moment the intimacy was almost stifling but she could not care less. She could gaze into his eyes forever, her heart squeezed in a panic.

_Was this what love really feels like? That the only one who matters in this world is he who sits in front of me? That he is all that matters, more than life, more than I more than anything in this universe? _

Erik's

As he stared into Christine's gentle doe eyes he watched her take on a distant look. He smiled, always daydreaming was his Christine.

As he sat there, he mulled over what had actually happened between his Christine and that damned Vitacome….

_She had…refused him? Did that mean she may love me? That such a tormenting beauty such as her could possibly love a beast as me? _

The thought of torment brought back the memory of Christine, dressed in almost nothing…the light of the candles caressing her creamy ivory skin. He shivered and cursed himself for thinking such inappropriate things. He just let his mind ponder what he was going to do now that his earlier plan had been destroyed…what to do with DonJaun? Suddenly he smiled, a new plan hatching in his brain, one that would delight Christine, and show his claim on her.

Gently he stroked her lip with his thumb, aching to remove the leather to feel her skin, to know it's softness.

_Focus!_

Shaking his head slightly he gathered his wits about him,

_What is it about this gir-woman that transforms me from a cold, calculating, logical man into an air headed clown? _

Crooning, he used his magic to coax her back out of her daydreams, her eyes slowly returning to their sparkling nature. Her eyes searched his, and it made his heart beat faster to see her lips curl up and a faint flush stain her cheeks.

"I apologize Ange…you caught me daydreaming. I hope I did not miss something important?"

He laughed gruffly, amazed that he could still laugh. His voice soft, soothing, almost seductive called to her as he continued to look into her eyes and caress her lips.

"The Bal Masque is upon us sweet Christine. Do you have a suitor to bring you?"

He waited upon pins and needles to hear her response, even though he knew the most likely answer. She blushed yet again and attempted to turn her face from his gaze, gently but authoritiatively he shifted her face back. Her voice was soft and tinged with embarrassment.

"No Maestro…I…I was hoping….."

She let her words trail off, her embarrassment almost tangible. With a hearty laugh he released her face. A satisfied smirk crossing his features.

" Then you shall go with me. I have already planned my colors, as I was already going to attend. The main color shall be red, so dress to match Christine. There is much preparation to do before tomorrow night. We shall skip our lesson tomorrow, as not just I have some preparing."

Slowly he began to rise, but the feeling of Christine's soft hand upon his shoulder stopped him, and the thoughts that were whirling around his head. Her eyes were glistening in the light, her mouth, so pink and voluptuous, just inches away. He had more than once been kept awake at night wreathing in his bed beneath the Opera House dreaming of how her lips might feel against his, how they would taste. He knew she was in the middle of saying something, but an unsalable urge gripped him and he brashly gave in. Cupping the side of her jaw he leaned in, capturing her top lip between his then softly released it, when she did not flinch or pull away he captured the her soft lip once again. His heart hammered in his chest, and he reveled at the softness of her lips against his misshapen ones. Sliding his hand into her hair he began to kiss her once again, sloppy as they were she did not seem to mind. As the innocent kisses began to get more fevered he could feel the situation swiftly spiraling out of control. Gently he untangled his hands from her hair, both breathless they stared at one another, disbelieving that the other actually cared for them.

_Regain your composure you fool! That was rushed, sloppy, and ungentlemanly! Ignorant Idiot!,_ his mind chastised, but his heart overrode his mind this time.

Slowly he rose, his breathing still unsteady, his heart bursting with feelings he had not yet to understand. Looking down upon her he almost beamed with pride, her eyes were slightly glazed with lust, her cheeks flushed and her soft mouth reddened from his kisses. Cloaked in his coat he felt a surge,

_MINE_

Extending his hand to her he helped her up, noticing that her legs were shaking. He smirked, pleased with himself. With a faint smile on his lips, his voice husky,

"I must go Christine. It is late, you need rest….and we both need to prepare for Bal Masque. I will meet you here in your dressing room. Be ready and waiting by the mirror promptly. I will escort you. Goodnight sweet Christine."

Still grasping her hand from when he helped her up, he brought it to his lips and brushed her knuckles lightly. Gently letting go he smiled and lethely stepped back behind the threshold of the mirror. Pausing for just a second to take in Christine, cloaked in his coat, her face flushed and a bit dazed, softly illuminated by the candles. A smile creased his lips and he flicked the switch, shutting the mirror once more.

From behind the mirror, where her wandering eyes could not see, he staggered back, placing his back against the old stone. Gathering what had happened this night together, uncontiously he swiped his fingers across his lips, a ghostly reminder of the passion they had shared. Deliberating just for a second longer then turning, stalking down the corridor with a step that he had never had before.

_So much to prepare for, so much to do for you….my willing Christine_.


	9. A million false faces pt 1

I pray you all are entranced? I hope that you all are enjoying the way that my little tale is progressing. Thank you so much all of you…without you my dear readers, my works would be just a whisper in my mind! Please, if you enjoy my story so…tell your friends, family ect! I wish to get out there! Thank you all once again, and thank you for your patience! Thank you all for your warm wishes in my time of darkness. My puppy is now in the arms of the angels. Thank you all dear readers for your support and patience in my absence. Now, on to the festivities!

PryingPandora

P.S. This chapter will be seen from Erik's point of view only. And divided into two parts muahahaha

**X.**

**A million false faces pt 1**

He could feel her anticipation as he stood just a few feet from the mirror. He did not want to see her magnificent form before she was ready to be seen. He paced back and forth in the corridor, the motion stirring up his cape around him. He smirked to himself, How will she like being courted by the Red Death?

A faint laugh escaped his lips, a joyous feeling bubbling in his chest. She actually wanted to be seen with him! Him, of all the suitors that had asked her, had been the one to take her hand. Smiling he lightly brushed his lips with his fingers, reminiscing of last night's kiss.

She had…kissed him. A faint blush stole across his features, unseen by any but not unfelt by him. He fingered the rose that he held in his hand, the sweet fragrance reminding him of Christine's own sweet scent. Not baring to be apart from her any longer he sauntered to the front of the mirror, peering in to the softly lit room. His voice calling out gently, soothingly, seductively.

"Christine…..Christine…."

He watched as she jumped from behind the privacy screen, he could almost feel her heart flutter. Her sweet angelic voice called out to him, stirring the memories of him and her.

" Maestro, please enter at last"

With a self-conscious smoothing of his wig he pushed the lever, the mirror sliding back silently. Stepping down into the room he was hit by her scent, the sweet faint rose, and found himself aching to hold her.

As she stepped from behind the privacy screen the sight of her took his breath away. Her hair was gently pined up, each curl lovingly placed just so, a few unruly strands escaping from around her temples. Her cheeks were sweet and rosy, her lips like soft rose petals, a slash of elegant red upon her creamy white skin. Her dress was the color of the flames, the fiery red satin catching the light, causing the fabric to almost glow. The neckline drew his eyes downward from her neck to her bodice. The bodice was elegantly decorated with black lace, the tops of her breasts creamy swells. Embarrassed he darted his gaze to her face, his own aflame under his mask. Her eyes betrayed her bashfulness and he could not contain himself any longer.

Sweeping her into his arms he crushed her to his chest, breathing in her intoxicating scent.

_ Christine, you wear the color of courtesans, but are so pure, like freshly fallen snow. _

He could feel her fingers burrowing into his chest, her warmth pouring into his heart. Pulling away slightly he snaked his hand up to gently cusp her chin, tilting her head up so he could stare into her eyes. His voice was hoarse, his voice betraying his passion.

"Christine, oh Christine. Your beauty is unchallengeable."

He watched as a deep flush stole across her cheeks, her faint "thank you Maestro" reaching his ears and a faint smile creasing his face.

Leaning forward he hesitantly met his lips to hers, his heart skipping a beat when she kissed him back. The flush still staining her cheeks she pulled away, rushing to her vanity she picked up her mask. A throaty chuckle escaped him when he saw what she had created, the mask was made to resemble the black one in his lair. The one she must have found in his bedchamber.

As she smoothed it on, the black satin covered porcelain hiding her delicate bone structures. Stepping back so he could view the whole of her, his breath caught in his chest.

_How could such a delicate innocent creature stir so much passion in a man such as I? Oh Christine if you only knew…._

He could hear the festivities just outside her door, the sound of thousands singing in unison a gay song. Deciding he reached out his hand he beckoned her to come, signaling that it was time for their grand entrance.

_It shall be one that they will never forget. _


	10. A million false faces pt2

I apologize, my friends for the long wait in my update! I have gotten so bad lately, I promise I will try to update sooner! Unfortuneately I do not know where I will go with this once I finish the story, since this was merely a retelling of sorts. I hope that these last few chapters will leave you breathless and engaged!

Much love ,

PryingPandora

**XI**

**A million false faces pt. 2**

**_Erik_**:

The festivities were already underway. He could hear the resounding laughter and the orchestra playing, the chorus of voices singing made a very cheerful atmosphere. Glancing down happily he was gifted with the sight of his breathtaking Christine's smile, her eyes bright and cheerful. His heart was soaring as he strode arm in arm, her delicate hand resting atop his forearm.

_Christine, how my heart quickens for you. My life complete just in knowing you have affection for a man such as I…._

In his other hand he felt the heavy weight of the leather binder, his latest Aria penned out for those greedy fools who called themselves the owners of _HIS_ opera house. Anger sparked in his heart as he thought of those fools running the Opera, but a soft elated sigh that escaped his beloved's lips diffused it as fast as it had come.

Stopping just before the entrance to the winding stairwell to the Ball Room he turned, gently unwinding Christine's arm from his. Her face lighting up the darkness in his soul as he grasped her hand and planted a brushing kiss across her knuckles.

"Christine….you are mine, and mine alone. My lark that sings in the midnight of my soul. I hope tonight will be all you wish it to be. Understand that once we enter, I will address all in a commanding manner, I must remind those….men who truly owns this opera house. Afterword we shall dance if you so wish."

Her face flushed deeply, the sight easing a smirk onto his lips. Her eyes searching his, probing and kind as she turned her hand in his grasp as to link their fingers together. As a smile played across her voluptuous lips her voice carried softly into his ears, an angel song, " I do not fear Maestro, as the night is already been far more than I could have ever imagined. I am ready to enter, to be the one upon your arm, the Angel to the Death."

He could not help but smile at her words, how courageous his Christine is, how beautiful and innocent. With a slow nod he acknowledged her reply, and taking his hand from hers he cupped her face and brushed his lips across hers gently. A spark jumping between them at the contact, causing his suit to feel a size to small. Taking his Angel's hand they commenced to make their grand appearance.

**_Christine: _**

As they entered the room, the organ below let out a great bellow. The music punctuating their appearance, shocking and frightening the crowd. The room grew silent, all eyes were upon them, she could feel the stares of all the patrons. Their costumes creating just as much awe and shock as their entrance. Her gown taking on the look of a lit candle as it was illuminated by the many candelabras elaborately placed around, the only sound in the place the sound of the organ and the clicks of her shoes upon the marble as her Maestro lead her down the stairs, his voice ringing out as cold and authoritative as he said it would be.

" Why so silent, good messieurs? Did you think that I had left you for good? Have you missed me good messieurs? I have written you an opera-"

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, she could tell that he glanced her way, ever so slightly, as if to say, "slip away into the crowd, I will find you." As he held her hand aloft, his powerful voice cascading over all in the vicinity, she slipped her hand out of his gently. Feeling as if she was leaving and abandoning him she quickly walked toward the atrium, out of the ballroom and out of the sight of so many eyes.

" Here I bring the finished score, Don Juan Triumphant!" To punctuate his words he drew his sword and tossed the leather bound book upon the marble stairs. The metal leaving the sheath with a metallic hiss. As he sang he played with his sword, she watched from the doorway, almost peering out as a child would. "Fondest greetings to you all, a few instructions just before rehearsal starts…"

**_Erik:_**

Striding over he pointed his sword at La Carlotta, a vile sneer crossing his features. His cape trailing behind him and his presence unnerving everyone, just as he had hoped. " Carlotta must be taught how to act," The shocked look upon her face such a gratifying reaction, the dark part of his soul devouring the fear he is instilling. Leaning forward he ruffled the feathers in her hat with the tip of his sword, causing Pangi to stiffen at her side, turning he gently poked at the fat man's belly. " Not her normal act of strutting around the stage, our Don Juan must lose some weight it's not healthy in a man of Pangi's age."

Strutting toward the insolent fools that called themselves the managers of his opera house, swirling the sword in a graceful arc, "And my managers must learn that their places is in an office, not the arts!" To punctuate his statement he thrust his sword at the idiots' faces, causing the men to blanch and the crowd to gasp. Pleased with their pitiful reactions he smirked, when suddenly a loud commotion resounded behind him.

Turning with a scowl he faced the source of the commotion, his mood blackening immediately. Rage, hot and blinding overcame him as he saw his sweet Christine being pawed at by, surprise, none other than the Vitcome himself. Striding forward with a face to match his mask, the crowd parted to let him through.

He reached them just as Christine threw Raoul off, causing him to stumble toward the Phantom. With his fee hand he gripped the Patron's coat, the stench of liquor pouring off the man in waves. With an angry growl he shoved the offending drunkard forward, causing him so hit the floor like a tossed coat. He stood his ground, towering over the pitiful figure as he scrambled to his feet. Closing in the gap he reached out to grab the man again when he heard the distinctive hiss of metal against metal.

Jumping back like a leathe cat he avoided Raoul's drunken swing. A flurry of gasps and shocked murmurs resounded in the room, the party goers swiftly retreating to the edges of the room like frightened cattle.

" She…..She is MINE you phony ghost! You are but a m-m-man who preyed upon Christine!"

His drunken rant grating against his nerves. The beast hidden inside of himself clawing to get free…to spill his guts upon the white marble. Supressing his greatest urges he circled his foe, deciding that killing him would be an unwise idea in the presence of his gentle and no doubt frightened Christine. Suddenly the Vitcome lunged forward, his sword aimed for his guts, the clang of steel on steel filled the room as they danced their dance around each other. Each meeting punctuated by the loud screech of metal, he controlled the match, shoving the drunken bastard around the room. Suddenly Raoul had him pinned against the banister, his liquor loaded breath wafting into his face as they strained against the steel separating each other. Twisting upon the banister he swept his cape into his foe's face, disorienting the man and sending him twirling off balance on the marble steps. With a swift flick of his wrist he slashed his sword across the man's chest, eliciting a loud yell and a chorus of gasps from the crowd.

Triumphant he stalked forward toward his hunched and bleeding foe, with a hard kick to the back sent him sprawling in the middle of the crowd. With shrieks and screams the crowd scrambled, almost trampling each other in an attempt to escape. A thick red mist covered his vision, the lust for blood clouding his mind. Kicking the prone man over so he could see his face, he sneered at him. The Vitcome's lip was split and bleeding, his jacket long discarded and the front of his chest covered in thick crimson. Kicking aside the fallen man's weapon he raised his sword with a feral growl to take his kill-

Suddenly a piercing shriek filled the room, causing him to whip around, and running toward him as fast as she could was his Christine. Fear and terror filling her lovely features, "NO! Please no! Not like this!" As quick as he could he sheathed his sword just as her tiny form plowed into him, sobbing and clinging to him. His mind returning from the brink of madness the implications of what he was about to do surged in.

His breath rattling in his chest he clutched his beloved's sobbing form to his chest. In a daze he surveyed the room, the white terrified faces stared back at him. His heart hitting the floor he slowly looked down at the sobbing girl clinging to him for dear life. Reality turned into horror as he scooped the hysterical Christine into his arms and briskly walked to the center of the ballroom and with a flash of smoke and fire they disappeared into the underground tunnel below.

_What have I done…..my poor….poor….Christine….._


	11. A little accident

Hello dear readers...I am so sorry for neglecting you. However I have had a medical emergency...I have a third degree chemical burn on my arm. It is 3 1/2 inches long and 2 1/2 inches wide. It is on the inside of my wrist, so it makes it hard to type. I may have to have reconstructive surgery. This happened with oven cleaner. I warn you that oven cleaner is very caustic and is very very dangerous. Please keep your little ones safe and NEVER leave a can of oven cleaner un-attended. Oven cleaner contains sodium hydroxide...aka lye. Lye is a base...and a very strong one. That means it burns like an acid, destroying tissues rapidly. Please, if you ever come in contact with lye or oven cleaner immediately flush the area with water for 15 to 20 minutes then pour vinegar on it and get medical help right away! I will update as soon as I can. Love you all!

~Prying Pandora


	12. What has been done, can it be undone?

Hello everyone! I am so sorry for my long absence. I have dealt with my burn, it is doing well, I needed the skin graft unfortunately. It is an extremely ugly scar and rather large, unfortunate but unavoidable. But I am doing fine now. Thank you all for your warm wishes and kind hearts! Now….this chapter may….be a bit slow since I am still getting back into it. It may also change a bit, please bear with me! Now, on with the show Mon Ami's!

PryingPandora

**XII**

**What has been done, will it be undone? **

**Erik**

An entangled web of emotion was caught in his chest, seeming to clog the natural rhythm of his heart. He had continued to curse himself the entire way to the lair, the short gondola ride to the heart of his lair had seemed like an eternity, as Christine's soft sobs echoed off the walls, however before they reached their destination she had fallen silent. No doubt she had passed out, the shock and distress overcoming her.

_Foolish ignorant imbecile! How could you think that a beauty could tame the beast inside of you? Did you think that it went away? Curse you!_

As he paced in front of the curtained bed where his sweet Christine slumbered, her party gown and mask still in place, he played out what had happened above millions of times in his mind. Angrily he struck out, knocking a candelabra into the water, extinguishing the flames with a muted hiss. The rage still boiling under his skin, at his ignorance and at that bastard's audacity to touch his sweet Christine. He could still hear the commotion above, the terror and anger at the confrontation had effectively ruined the Ball Masque. With a heavy sigh he pulled the rope lever beside the grand bed, watching as the curtain rose, revealing the prone and sleeping form of his beloved.

_Oh Christine….can what I have done….be undone? Do you view me as I view myself now? Do you not understand now, that it seems that none can tame the beast? _

With a strangled breath he dared to seat himself at the edge of the bed, the velvet sinking slightly beneath his weight. With a gloved hand he brushed her cheek, gently, his heart faltering in his chest. With a curse he whipped his hand back and yanked it free of the glove, angrily tossing it aside into the outer bed chamber. The offending glove hit something with a faint slap. He wanted to feel that spark, the sweet creamy softness of her skin, the warmth that radiated from inside her that had melted his ice interior so long ago. Brushing his fingertips gingerly across her cheek, his heart swelled, a pain inside that same heart pricked at him, that feeling…was it guilt? Leaning as close as he dared to her face, he studied her delicate features confined to the mask she wore. The dark satin accentuated her rose red lips, made the soft skin around her face, just that much creamier, and made her long dark eyelashes stand out upon her face. The mask, it seemed, instead of hiding the features, accentuated hers, made her all the more ethereal. A ugly thought crossed his mind, one of himself, and he leaned back as quick as he dared. Disgusted by himself he turned his face from her. Staring out onto the lake, his mind racing and his heart heavy, he spoke to himself, his voice deep and sorrowful throughout the cavern.

"Oh sweet Christine, how can you say you love a beast such as I? For your beauty is not just your voice, or your innocent face, no. It is your spirit, pure and clean. For my own is as black as soot, mangled and atrocious. I have frightened you once again, and I fear, for the last time."

Turning back to her prone form, his gaze softened, unconsciously of course. Gently he reached behind her curls, the feeling of her soft locks caressing his hands as he undid the bow of the mask. Slowly and with careful hands he removed it. The porcelain skin underneath revealed. Placing the mask in his lap he leaned tensely over his love, and brushed his lips across her brow. With a soft sigh she smiled, even in her sleep at his touch. A flutter of his heart responded to her sigh, but quickly drowned out by a vile feeling inside, at himself. With a sick feeling inside of himself he stood, taking the tiny porcelain mask with him, and closed the curtains once again.

_You thrice damned fool! That was not your kiss to give! A stolen pleasure of yours which your mangled face does not deserve!, _Screamed his mind.

The echo of his footsteps reverberating around the cavern, the faint slush of the water against the stone the only other sound. As he weaved between the piles of penned paper, boxes, remedies and such he fingered the mask. So tiny was his Christine, and so cunning. She must have seen that his masks were made of porcelain instead of the crepe paper, and had one of the men outside of the city cast one in her image, as to match his. A faint smile crossed his lips as he thought of her kind gesture. At last he came to a stop, the room entrance at which he was currently standing hidden by thick drapes. Brushing them aside he entered the room, which stank of actors glue and hatred. The inside of the small room was covered in shelves, and upon the shelves were hundreds of masks, of his own design. A small worktable sat in the far back of the room, a single candle illuminating the station. Jars of yellow viscous liquid were placed about the table, as well as jars of powders, creams, pots of paint and the like. Gingerly sitting down on the stool beside the station he gazed at the mask waiting upon the table. It was a simple mask, curiously alike to Christine's. It was the mask for the newest Opera, his Don Juan Triumphant. Placing Christine's delicate mask beside the finished Don Juan mask, they seemed to make an eerily beautiful pair. With a slight smile he gently touched Christine's mask, a fleeting touch as he stood. Blowing out the candle he exited the room, his intent now on perfecting the Aria score.

**Christine**

As she awoke she could not remember where she was, or what had happened.

Had she fallen asleep? Did she drink too much? She worried. Sitting up however, she saw she was once again in Maestro's lair, more precisely his bed. With a blush she brushed a loose lock of hair from her face, just as the first strains of music began to fill the cavern. The strains of the organ, filled the air sensually. The music seemed to roll across ones skin, like a lovers caress. Scrunching her brow she tried to remember how she ended up in her Maestro's lair. With a gasp the memories came flooding back. The boom of the organ at their entrance, the haunting tone of her Ange's voice filling the ballroom, the feeling of Raul's drunken hands tearing at her bodice, and the clang of steel ringing in her ears. With a soft sob she covered her mouth, a tiny tear escaped her eye and slid down her cheek. The terror of the night had returned and the embarrassment of her actions caused her face to burn. The sensual strains of music continued, calming the inflamed part of her soul, calming her fear that her Ange had left her, to deal death above. With a shudder she gathered herself up, sitting up in the vast bed with a little difficulty. With a deep breath she began to unravel the tangled events of the night.

_Ange…his face…changed during the fight. It took on an alien look, one of pure rage, of death. His face portrayed that of the character he was costumed as, he was at that moment, instead of her Ange de la Muse, the Ange de la Mort. Certainly he would have killed Raul had she not stopped him, but had she robbed him of his honor? Had she disgraced him in front of the multitude? _

_Foolish girl, her heart sighed, but then it continued, He did it to protect you, your honor! You are not some back stage whore, and that is how Raul handled you. He was enraged at the foolish man, he loves you enough to kill for you. Go to him, soothe his wounds. Make sure he was not hurt, as Raul was. That rouge boy is no longer your friend, but an enemy, a nuisance. All Raul stands for is to destroy your love for your Ange. Go to him, talk with him, make things right. _

Wiping the tears from her face she straightened herself, wishing that she could do without the corset and heavy gown. A quick smile flashed over her features, a sensual thought sweeping over her. With a devilish grin she hoisted herself off the bed, reaching behind her for the buttons of her dress. With deft fingers she quickly dispatched the offending buttons from her dress, letting the heavy hot fabric slide free of her skin. With a shiver she stepped free of the voluminous pile, her bare feet upon the stone. A blush stole across her skin as she stood, in her corset and slip; a lacy black pair, her garters and stockings. With a start, she noticed the eerie similarity to the white outfit she had worn when her Ange had taken her here the first time, but it was the opposite of the white innocence she had portrayed then, the black showing how she was ready to bloom into a woman. The black bodice of her corset caused the pale color of her skin to stand out in a sensual way, the sensual music continuing on, the organ filling the room with its bellow, as her Ange's voice seemed to ooze into the music. Transfixed she stood there for a moment, letting the enticing sound of his voice woo her.

"You have come here….In pursuit-"

With lithe feet she brushed the curtain away and exited the bed chamber, her heart pounding in her chest. Following the pathway of candles and letting the strains of music guide her she sought out her Ange.

"of your deepest urge, In pursuit of that wish-"

Suddenly his form came into view, gone was the red cloak, but still clad in the brilliant red garb of the red death, he sat upon his throne. The sweet music pouring forth from his fingers entranced her, his magnificent form powerful and commanding as he sat in sweet music's throne. He was both, Ange de la Muse, and Ange de la Mort, both one in the same but a sensual pairing of the two. The final strains of his voice filled the place, his nearness causing her to swoon.

"which till now has been silent….silent"

Catching her time to act she loosed her voice, letting it pour into the music,

"You have brought me….To that moment when words run dry …..To that moment when speech disappears…where there is silence….silence…Ange…"

Suddenly the organ stopped, a tenseness covered his features, without turning he stood at the organ. With a click he shut the key cover, and she could see he had no gloves on. With a sharp breath she clutched her hands to her breast, his voice pouring out to her.

"Christine…..your awake…..how did you…know that strain?" Turning slowly, the unblemished side of his face turning toward her, her breath catching in her throat.

**Erik**

It was startling to her his sweet Christine's voice, issuing forth those lines, the lines he penned in the heat of his sexual frustration. To hear them loosed from her innocent mouth was quite a shock, attempting to compose himself he had stood and had asked her a question, and had begun to turn toward her.

The sight that lay before him nearly struck him blind. He could feel his blood begin to stir in his veins, as his sweet innocent Christine stood before him, clad in nothing but her underpinnings, which were as black as the night he hid in. Gone from her features was the child she once was, and in its place was a sensual woman. Her voice rang sweetly around the cavern, stirring his blood further. Unable to contain himself any longer he strode down towards her.

"Ange, I am sorry I disgraced you, I never meant to tarnish your honor. Please forgive me Maestro."

She fell to her knees, her pleading eyes searching his as he strode to her. As he reached her she gently grabbed his leg, staring up at him. From this angle her breasts were fully visible, the creamy swells temping him, enticing his thoughts. With a shudder he reached down and pulled her up to him, pressing her head to his chest, struggling to contain the beast inside. His voice was rough betraying his passion,

"Oh dear Christine, I know you never meant to. You were terrified, and rightly so. But pray sweet one, why appear unto me in such temping garb?"

He could feel her fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt, her head pressed to his chest and he warred with himself to contain the passion he felt for her. She shifted her body, and absently pressed her breasts to him, eliciting a groan. A small gasp escaped her lips as she pulled away from him, worry in her eyes. He was grateful for the distance, for the bulge below his belt was close to her when they were close.

"Ange…are you hurt? Did Raul hurt you?" Worry tainted her voice as her hands flitted over his chest. Inwardly he groaned, praying that she would not look lower. His voice echoing forth like crushed velvet,

"Oh Christine, no darling. You…..entice. It is difficult to remain a gentleman when you are so close, dressed as you are. You cause my blood to boil Christine, you torment me so…sweet Christine, so innocent to the ways of men."

Turning he strode toward an off shoot of the aria stage, using the time where he did not face her to clandestinely shift the bulge in his pants downward. Taking deep breaths he turned to her again, she had not moved, but a faint blush had crossed her skin. With downward cast eyes her voice was like honey,

"Oh! I….see Ange…I…I…" Taking a deep breath she fought for words, causing her bosom to swell against the confines of her bodice, the creamy flesh begging for his touch.

_Pervert, stop this now. She is a lady, and will be treated as such. If you must, wed her tonight! _

A strangled breath escaped her lips and she seemed to have found the words she was looking for. He clenched his fists, attempting to keep himself rooted in place, a battle between his morals and his body raging. She looked up, her hair glimmering in the candlelight, the soft shadows crossing her skin sensually. Her eyes found his, a new glow inside of them that he had never seen before.

"Ange….I do not know the ways of men, nor the secrets of the bedroom…..but I…am unafraid Ange. I want you to take me and teach me…be my…Don Juan. Oh Ange please…?"

Her voice so soft and pleading, stirred his passion higher, as she slowly inched toward him, her moves so sensual and slow. Inside the battle against the beast was raging, and as of this minute, the beast was winning. Striding forward he crushed her to him, capturing her face with his hand and his mouth descending upon hers. Hungry forceful kisses, their bodies pressing together almost perfectly. A small groan escaped his lips as she writhed against him, her bosom pressing against his chest, and the hunger intensified. Lifting her to him, pulling her legs around his waist he carried her, mouth still upon her, to the organ. Placing her upon the keys, he trailed his mouth across her cheek, across her jaw and to her pale neck. A gasp escaped her, stoking the internal fire within him, a sensual sound that was. Continuing his plunder of her neck he rested his hands around her waist, his hands roving up and down as far as he dared. Her hands snaked up his neck, little sounds escaping her lips, and into his hair.

He could feel her tugging him closer to her neck, and he could feel the pounding of his blood in his veins. He wanted her so badly, and they were inching closer…and closer to the point of no return. Trailing his rough kisses down her neck, he reached the cleft of her breasts, gentling his touch he kissed the top of each, a throaty moan escaping his sweet Christine. The sound astonished him, and he raised his head, a deep flush had broken out across Christine's skin, a rosy shade and her breathing rapid, as his own. This momentary interruption of the mania they were in allowed that intellectual portion of his brain to break through and he pulled away. His breathing ragged and Christine's face bewildered. Turning, breathing hard he dragged his hands through his hair, turning from her eyes. His voice cracked and hoarse spilled forth,

"Christine….we…must stop this. You are a lady. And…as such I will not disgrace you." With considerable effort he straightened his shirt and shifted himself again. Behind him he could hear her sliding from the organ bench, no doubt fixing herself as well. Once he got his breathing under control he turned to face her once more, searching the vicinity for the cloak he had cast off earlier in a rage. Spotting it he scooped it up and gently placed it about her shoulders. Her head was lowered, staring at the floor. Cupping her face with his hand he tilted her face to him. Peering down he could see her mouth swollen from his kisses and a glint of tears in her eyes. With a sigh he brushed her lip with his finger,

"Oh sweet one….it is not that I do not desire you. That is evident. However I will not tarnish your reputation further by bedding you without marriage. You are not a common chorus girl, you are special Christine." Warring inside of himself he struggled to decide whether or not that tonight was the right time to ask her, to make her his forever, the debate only lasted a minute when his heart won the battle. Unwinding her arms from around him he strode over to the dresser by the organ, and pulled a secret lever, and extracted the velvet box. Lithely returning to her he peered into her eyes. A bewildered expression was cast upon her angelic face, eliciting a smile from his lips. Dropping to his knees in front of her, a first in his life, he reached out and clasped her tiny hand in his. Her eyes searched his attentively, and he smiled. His voice level and steady,

"My dear, I have waited forever for this. I dreamt of this day for years. I worked every last detail out, writing and rewriting this over and over and none of those versions ever came out like this. Darling, sweet Christine. Will you be my bride? My one companion in the darkness? The one to fill this dark place with the light of your soul?"

A strangled gasp escaped her lips, and a torrent of tears from her eyes. She quaked as he opened the box to reveal a ring of braded gold, with a large clear diamond in the center, with hearts of pure sapphire adjacent to the large diamond and two small "V"s of tiny diamond underneath the ends of the hearts. The entire thing sparkled like the sun, which, fit everything that Christine meant to him. Her silent tears burst into gasping sobs at the sight of the ring, slowly he stood and took the ring out of the box. Looping his free hand around her waist he looked down at her, and slowly she tilted her face to look at him, her eyes swimming in happy tears she only could shake her head up and down. A smile spread across his face as he took her hand and placed the band onto her hand. She suddenly turned, burying herself into his chest, happiness overtaking him.

_Is my life now complete? What shall happen….my sweet bride….my Christine….._

_End note:_

_I hope that that chapter is good enough to state you. Im sure you did not see that coming! ;D Please comment and leave your reactions in the comment section! I love to hear from you guys! Thanks _


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